Scarborough in Summer
by Lunar1
Summary: Episode Tag to The Satan Pit. The Doctor makes sure that Rose knows.
1. Chapter 1

She swings her legs as he holds her so tightly she can barely breath, enjoying the ferocity of his hug and yet needing it to end; he's squeezed all the air from her lungs and it would be uncomfortable if she didn't need to feel him so close, his breath warm on her neck as he chuckles.

Her feet touch the floor again and she moves to extricate herself from is embrace. His hands are still holding her arms, just above the elbow, his eyes boring into her. She returns his rapturous grin, feeling the penetrative aspect of his stare as if he's looking for something hidden in the core of her being, and not caring. It's more than enough to return that smile and feel loved enough that his dark eyes sweep over her, make sure she's one and whole and his.

And so she's shocked when he leans forward, and doesn't know how to react as his mouth covers hers. It's a kiss as fierce as his hug, an assault on her lips and before she's really aware of it she's returning it, falling back into his embrace, her head tilted upwards as he continues kissing her as if the fate of the universe depended on it. The metal of the harness he's still wearing is digging into her, but she doesn't mind. She couldn't break away, even if she wanted to, he's holding her too tightly. The rational core of her brain not swept away by the passion of the kiss wonders if he's scared she might.

It's him that breaks the kiss therefore, two spots of colour burning in his pale cheeks and his eyes aflame now, burning with an emotion she can't name, won't name. It's too ephemeral for that, giving it a title will only encourage it to slip away, for him to step back and clap his hands together, and ask the question.

_Where to, Rose Tyler? Where to?_

And she knows her reply too well:

_Anywhere, as long as it's with you._

"I'm sorry," he breaths, his voice ragged.

She feels her mouth twitch. "It weren't that bad," she replies, and he laughs again, his face alight with joy and she's never loved him more she realises, high on the euphoria of survival and the shock of this new something between them.

Later, she knows there'll be guilt. There'll be Toby's ruined face, his mad red eyes meeting hers as the awful voice rips itself from his vocal cords and his hideous scream as he dies by her hand. There'll be Scooti, and Jeffersen, and the Ood cowering in fear as they fall into the Time Lords' most terrible creation. She knows there'll be nightmares, so vivid they'll leave her screaming in the dark.

But she knows that they will pass, and that when she wakes up there'll be strong hands on her shoulders, bracing her against the horrors and telling her _"It's ok, it's just a dream,"_ and giving her water, or tea or maybe even something stronger. And she'll think: _Does he ever get his head down? _As she drifts back off to sleep she'll hear him tinkering with the TARDIS, talking softly to her, to himself.

But right now there's just him, blushing, and not knowing quite what he's begun. She feels old, mature beyond her years because for this one moment she's in control; _she _understands and not him. She leans forward, and brushes her lips against his again. It's a delicate kiss this time, although his hands tighten instinctively on her arms again, and he feels her smile under his lips.

"I'm so glad you're safe," he says, in between the butterfly soft kisses, his mouth still pressed against hers.

"S'you that was in danger. When Ida said... when you fell..." She can't finish the sentence, tears stinging her eyes irrationally. _He's safe, he's here, it's ok... _Her forehead rests against his as he holds her so close she can feel the odd beating of his two hearts. It's funny how something so alien can feel so familiar, that when she hugged Toby and Danny it felt wrong somehow...

"Did Ida...?" he asks, almost hating himself for it as the words seem to bubble up from somewhere within.

"She said... that you said my name."

"You know, Rose, don't you?" he breathes, so quietly she's not quite sure that he's even said it.

"Yeah," she murmurs in reply, "I know."

He draws away at last, smiling in a different way now. He's himself once more, and she feels a fleeting sadness, wondering for a moment if they'll ever feel this close again, and almost fearful of the circumstances that might bring it upon them. "I should let them have their suit back," he says, glancing down at his orange attire, "Don't think this colour's really me."

She shrugs. "I dunno. It's very... Armageddon..."

"It was really," he replied softly, "Wasn't it?" She knows she won't be the only one feeling the guilt once the adrenalin has ebbed away, and if he _does_ ever sleep she knows she won't be the only one screaming in her dreams.

She smiles anyway, and puts her hands on his shoulders where the harness sits like a heavy duty pair of braces. There's seduction in her smile as she slides them over his arms, and reaches round for the zip on the back of his suit. He exhales slowly as she gently pulls it down, and can't quite help the quirk of his eyebrows.

Something has changed, she realises, as he steps out of the space suit and gathers it up in his arms. She watches him as he crosses to the TARDIS door, opens it, and throws the suit into the cargo hold beyond. He crosses back to the console and she stands at his side as he radios Captain Zach. It's in the way he turns to look at her when he talks of humans, and the certainty in his eyes as he tells her the Beast was lying about her death in battle.

The groan and _zing_ of dematerialisation fades, replaced by the hum of the TARDIS in transit. "What do you reckon?" he asks, "A nice cup of tea?"

She nods. "Yeah. You put the kettle on. First of all, I want to grab a shower."

He nods. "Good plan."

She thumps his arm lightly. "Oi! You're not so fragrant yourself you know!" she returns.

He grins. "Well quicker you're finished, faster I can get one."

"I _know_ there's more than one bathroom on this ship. And when I find it, there's gonna be Hell to pay over you making me hurry up all the time."

The words are out of her mouth before she can stop them, and there's an awkward silence for a moment. The Beast was right, in some ways, she realises. He _was_ woven into the fabric of so many cultures, even down to the very words she uses to express herself. It's going to take time to for the effects of this adventure to fade.

But the Doctor's grinning again. "You'll never find them," he replies confidently.

"Oh, so you admit they exist?" she returns, glad he found a simple way to release the tension.

He merely smiles. "I'll put the kettle on, you can pour and then we can go for chips."

"Mmm. Proper ones. From the seaside?"

He nods. "Yeah. Blackpool. Late twentieth century, on a windy day. Sound normal enough?"

"I know it'll be Scarborough in the summer," she says, her tongue poking out from between her teeth as she teases him, "But yeah. Sounds _brilliant_."


	2. Chapter 2

The Doctor is not in the kitchen when she arrives, but the kettle has almost boiled so she takes two large mugs at random from the cupboard above the sink and decides to do some of the washing up whilst the Doctor's getting clean. She does so distractedly, not quite able to tear her thoughts away from the mental image of the Doctor in the shower.

"Boo," he says softly, and she jumps, exceptionally glad he can't see the images inside her head. She stacks the last of the clean plates on the draining board and then turns round. He's wearing his suit (it's a good job the TARDIS has some miraculous washing machine from the 50th century, she thinks, that can clean clothes in an instant and mend them, because that suit's seen a _lot_ of wear...) but a different shirt and tie. His hair's still slightly damp from washing and he ruffles it instinctively.

She realises she hasn't poured the tea, but that's okay because she's done the washing up instead and he smiles at her, as he pours boiling water in the teapot. "Blackpool in ten minutes," he says, as she slips into her seat at the table. He purses his lips at that thought. _Her_ seat. The seat she always sits at, certainly. But _her _seat? When did he start thinking like that?

She grins wickedly. "We'll see."

There's companionable silence as they wait for the tea to stew. This is a ritual for them, almost, as close to domesticity as he's ever really come before. A nice cup of tea after narrowly escaping death, followed by some chips if things have been really bad. What worries him is that the fried potato he started to eat because it was so normal, so reassuring for Rose now has a similar effect on him. It's nearly as bad as jelly babies...

She pours the tea carefully into the mugs, taking the pink one for herself and leaving him the green, and the milk. She likes her tea black at moments like this, bitter on her tongue to the point of almost being unpleasant, but not quite. It makes her feel alive again, now the adrenalin has drained away to leave... tiredness. Not exhaustion, but a weariness that speaks of sleep, soon but not now. She's not sure she wants to sleep soon, though. Now the euphoria has washed away with the grime of the Sanctuary base, the reality of what has happened, what she's done, is beginning to sink in. The Doctor's kiss almost seems like a dream already, dwarfed by the vague guilt.

_The metal had been cold in her hand, matching the ice that seemed to move in her veins and the chill in her voice. _

_"Go to Hell."_

She pushes the thought away and sips her tea. "I like Blackpool," the Doctor says suddenly, "I went on the Big Dipper once."

She smiles over her mug. "Really? Why?"

"Oh. Experience. Have you ever been on it?"

She shakes her head. "No. I've never been to Blackpool. To far North for Mum." She finishes her tea and puts the mug in the sink, before heading for the control room. The TARDIS is making noises Rose recognises by now as indicating she's about to land. Holding onto something at that point is normally a good move, but for once she comes to a halt with barely a bump.

She heads over to the door before the Doctor can, determined to see for herself what's out there before he tries to explain why they've ended up on the Costa del Sol rather than the Golden Mile.

There's a beach out there, the sea reflecting the red streaks in the sky dominated by the setting sun. The pier off to her left, a sketchy mass of shadows in the twilight topped by the vibrant pulsating glow of the funfair, makes her think it's got to be somewhere in England. The tramlines clinch it. _Blackpool, on a windswept evening early in spring_, she thinks. She smile and steps outside, turning to see the Tower lit up with it's _Pepsi _advertisement, the Doctor behind her.

"Smug," she smiles, and his grin merely grows broader.

"Well..." He takes her hand in his, and they walk away from the TARDIS along the seafront.

He's even got the era right, she realises, as they pass a bus shelter on which the _Spice Girls_ pose provocatively. She could hate him at this moment, but she doesn't. She's still a little numb but the wind is whipping the feeling away, as the sun slips down under the horizon and the flashing, gaudy lights of the arcades and casinos spill out onto the pavement.

Blackpool's busy and she feels like a girl in a museum. Somehow, this is more history to her than meeting Charles Dickens or attending a street party after the Queen's coronation could ever be. This is a time she remembers.

"It's 1996," The Doctor says, as if she needs telling, "_Take That_ have broken the hearts of a thousand schoolgirls by announcing their split but never fear, girl power is about take over the globe."

"I remember," she replies.

He makes a sound somewhere between a cough and a laugh. "Don't tell me you were a fan?"

She merely grins in return, mostly at the memory of making up dance routines to _Wannabe _in her bedroom.

"Well, they were doomed from the start really, considering two of them were aliens..." he mutters, and she's not sure whether to believe him or not.

They step inside a fish and chip shop, and the Doctor orders for them both. Within a few minutes they're sat on a bench facing the sea, a cone of chips in hand. The wind is dropping slightly, and she sighs happily, listening to the sound of the waves as they crash on the beach.

The Doctor, having finished his chips already, attempts to use her momentary distraction to steal one from her cone. She bats his hands away. "Oi!" she exclaims, although the word doesn't quite come out right with a mouthful of potato.

"Well, you're being slow," he returns, his hand still hovering close by. She waves the stupid plastic fork defensively, making as if to jab him with it and he frowns, but puts his hand down. She finishes the chips quickly, even though she knows he's joking.

"Where to now then?" she asks, crumpling the wrapper and depositing in the bin, "If you're in such a hurry."

"Mmmm... The pier," he returns, springing to his feet, "Bet you've never been on one, Miss 'Blackpool's-too-far-North Tyler."

"That was my Mum that said that!" she responds defensively, but his hand has already grabbed hers, and they're running along the promenade towards the funfair on the Central Pier.

It's very _human_ on the pier, the Doctor realises. This is still a time before the era of the baseball cap and hoody, there's decidedly more shell-suit about, but the vacant expressions of some of the boys hanging around the entrance are more than familiar. Inside it smells of popcorn, stale cigarette smoke and a taint of sweat. It's hot, the air conditioning poor, and the sound of the arcade machines loud. All the same, he can't help but smile. There's two little kids with their father, wildly excited as he feeds two penny pieces into a machine, and more cascade down into the tray at the bottom. An older girl is attempting to win a teddy bear out of a machine for her little brother, who's watching her attempts with fascination, his hands on the glass front of the 'grabber.'

He thrusts his hands into his coat pocket and withdraws a grubby five pound note. Knowing the change machine will never accept it he heads over to the counter and exchanges it for pound coins, twenty, ten and two pences.

"I've never been any good those," Rose says, pointing to where the girl has at last managed to pick up a teddy with the metal claw, and its progress to the trapdoor is being cheered by her brother.

"Who do you fancy?" he replies, "Paddington bear, or Garfield?"

"Paddington," she replies, "But you'll never get one. They're so rigged its really hard."

He feeds twenty pence into the machine, smiling cockily. He presses the arrows, the claw descends and snags Paddington bear by his bottom.

"Luck," Rose says, as the prize drops into the collection area. But she's smiling as she removes it, and hugs the bear to her as he inspects a fruit machine.

_Rose knows that this is a dream._

_She's standing on the edge of the pier, looking down at the sea. There's seagulls crying even though its night and the waves reflect an eerie silver starlight. Behind her the fun fair is in full swing, the swirling lights of the rides make her giddy when she turns towards it so she looks back at the water._

_The sea is moving, it's as if there's a whirlpool forming right below the pier, centred on the patch of water that holds her attention. The whirlpool seems to call to her, the empty suckingness of depth at its centre. Which stupid, she thinks, the water can't be that deep, or how else could they have built the pier?_

_Except she's not on the pier any more, she's standing on the edge of a different man-made platform and she's not looking into the sea but into the Pit._

_"The Valiant Child," says a voice, "Who will die so very soon in battle."_

_And then there's Ood everywhere, their eyes glowing red, and she sees they have the Doctor. _

_"Help me Rose!" he shouts, "Help me!"_

_But she's frozen to the spot, and Toby's beside her now, his ruined face so very close to hers. "You cannot kill me, Rose Tyler. And for your disobedience, he will die."_

_She knows she must be dreaming. But for the life of her, for the life of the Doctor, she can't wake up._

_She screams --_

-- and thrusts both arms out violently, punching whoever is holding her shoulders in the chest. There's an _oof _of expelled air.

"Lights!" she calls, her voice cracked with sleep and shaky with fear.

The Doctor is on her floor, rubbing his chest with a half-pained, half-impressed expression. "You were shouting," he says, by way of explanation, and she blushes.

"I'm sorry," she offers, moving to help him up but he's already found his feet and sits gently on the bed by her side, his eyes locked on hers. "I'm so sorry Rose."

She shakes her head, "Don't be. It was jus' a dream," she manages, fighting back tears, "It's not real... I know..."She bites her lip fiercely and screws up her face.

_I will not cry. I will NOT cry._

The Doctor's arms encircle her, and she can't help but let the tears leak out as she buries her face in his chest. His voice rumbles pleasantly there as he speaks. "Rose, Rose. I should have listened... I should have realised... I'm sorry."

She draws away at little, so his arms still envelope her but she can see his face. "It _wasn't_ you fault," she replies, "Okay? I was there laughing in that storage compartment too. We got out... we're ok. I just... I just feel guilty, that's all."

"Guilty?" he asks, his expression suddenly sharper, "Why do _you_ feel _guilty?_"

The tears threaten to spill from her overloaded eyes again and she can barely force the words out. Somehow saying them to him makes her burn with white hot shame, and she's half afraid he'll let her go, stare at her in disgust and leave. Make _her _leave maybe.

"On the rocket," she squeaks, her voice constricted, "Toby... He.. He was possessed by the Beast. I had to do something. Jeffersen had tried to shoot him earlier, saying he was possessed but I convinced him that Toby was clean and he wasn't..." She realises she's babbling, and the Doctor stares at her for a long, terrifying moment.

She finds herself back in his chest again, his arms squeezing even tighter. "You should never have had to... I should have..."

"Don't!" she almost snaps. "You can't protect me from everything Doctor. I'm not a child," she says, and the words echo in her mind: _the valiant child_. "I'm _not._ I chose to come with you, and I had to stay on the surface while you were fighting down in that Pit... I had to do my bit. And I did it for you. For the better way... that... that..." She can't finish the sentence but she thinks he understands.

His head is buried in her shoulder, face pressed against her. "Rose," he says, his voice muffled. "I knew I was right to believe in you."

He draws away, and smiles at her, his own eyes shining a little. She doesn't really follow what he's saying but clearly it's something to do with whatever he faced down in the Pit. She doesn't question him, but meets his eyes and manages a watery smile.

She recognises his intention this time, but it still shocks her as his lips meet hers again, his kiss hungry. She returns it, and it's beautiful and perfect for all that it's dangerous and wrong. She knows, she understands on some level that the Doctor and Rose can never do domestic, and she's come to accept it... most of the time. But now the Doctor himself seems to be cracking, breaking the resolve between them not to fall into the trap of being anything more than the best of friends. She knows she's been fooling herself for a long time, but she'd almost convinced herself that the Doctor viewed her in a purely platonic manner. _Madame du Pompadour helped me see that_, her hind brain adds wryly, but she pushes the thought away.

Yet now it seems she was wrong, and his hands are in her hair, thumb stroking her cheek, and she's being pushed gently backwards by the pressure of his insistent kiss until she's lying on her back and he's half on top of her, his position undoubtedly uncomfortable with his legs still sticking out from the side of her bed, but he doesn't seem to care.

She breaks away, with a little difficulty, and there's almost hurt in his eyes, and it pains her. "We can't do this..." she murmurs, "Can we?"

He doesn't move, his face still so close to hers she can feel his breath. "I don't know," he replies, "I just... don't know."

It's all too complicated and she's so tired, she just wants to sleep and find everything back to normal in the morning, almost willing to forgo another of the Doctor's kisses just to know that she can keep on travelling with him like they always do.

Almost but not quite.

He seems to sense her tiredness, and with effort the pained expression drains from his face, replaced by a friendly smile. He strokes some of her hair away from her forehead, the gesture tender. "Sleep now," he says, and she feels like she's drowning in his hazel eyes and not for the first time wonders if there's more to the Doctor's alien abilities than he's ever told her.

"Stay," she mutters, as her eyes flutter closed and sleep overcomes her.

He watches her breath for a while, deep and even, hesitating. Then he sighs, and kicks off his converse, lying down next to her. "It's funny isn't it," he whispers, to her or to himself he's not sure, "The things you make up, the rules..."


End file.
